


What happens in the tower, stays in the tower

by Narcissa1996



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Incest, Light Angst, One Shot, Rarepair, Robbsa, Sibling Incest, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa1996/pseuds/Narcissa1996
Summary: Robb and Sansa live out their forbidden love in secret but when the King travels to Winterfell, Sansa has no other option than to agree to her betrothal to Joffrey.“We’ll make things work our way, Sansa, no matter how, I promise,” he whispers, forehead against forehead, as blue eyes stare into their twin pair. “I dare you to tell me you don’t want it too.”





	What happens in the tower, stays in the tower

**Author's Note:**

> For the @asoiafrarepairs (tumblr) mini event. 
> 
> Prompt requested by @katiebuttercup : Robb/Sansa obviously aged up but what if Cersei and Jaime weren’t the incestuous couple and either both or Jaime or Cersei separately found Robb and Sansa in the tower having sex like Bran found Cersei in Jaime?
> 
> \- I hope this isn’t as bad as I think it is and that I didn’t ruin this idea for you. 
> 
> Warning: Sibling incest (duh), very mild smut
> 
> (I proofread this twice, but my brain has been fried by the current heat wave… so, I’m sorry for the mistakes.)

Robb sits down at the breakfast table, trying not to attract anyone’s attention. Somehow, Theon had managed to convince Jon and himself to go to Winter Town last night but the one cup of ale they had all agreed upon turned into many more and they had only just made it back to the keep a few hours ago. The hitch was, that unlike the other two, Robb was actually expected to break fast with his family every morning.

Rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, he turns his head to find Sansa – his Sansa – in deep conversation with their mother. Her skinny fingers wrap delicately around a lemon cake, carefully dipping it inside her hot beverage before slowly making the oblong biscuit disappear between her lips. Robb shuffles in his seat, suddenly wide awake, with sleep the last thing on his mind when she tilts her head toward him for a second, winking as her tongue licks away some stray drops from her lips before they can slide down her skin. _Oh_ , she knew the effect she had on him.

“Son, I require your help today to prepare for the King’s imminent arrival.” Ned speaks up, effectively bringing his son back from his improper musings.

“I can’t wait for them to arrive tomorrow. Maester Luwin said they travel with the best horses in Westeros.” Rickon chimes in excitedly, earning himself a few laughs in the process.

Robb freezes. He had entirely forgotten about the Royal visit. In his defense, everyone had been talking about it for so long – ever since Jon Arryn’s death – that it felt more like a general subject of conversation than an actual event. Robb nods, looking at his father, though he is neither looking forward to the long day of work that now awaited him, nor to meeting the Lannisters.

“So, is this why you stayed up late night with a million candles in your chambers to finish the dress?” Arya asks her older sister though her tone was more teasing than curious. “You want to marry the golden prick!”

Mother immediately scolds Arya for her behavior but the little girl appears unfazed. Sansa, however, purposefully looks away just as she feels his gaze on her. “I haven’t even talked about Prince Joffrey in years,” the red-haired beauty adds quietly.

It was true, Robb hadn’t heard her mention the golden prick since she was a little girl. He is certain she hadn’t even spoken his name one single time since they started their secret rendez-vous , not even when the Royal visit was first announced. Yet, the way she grew quiet and shy at Arya’s teasing has him… concerned. And maybe even jealous.

Father drags him into his solar before he has even finished eating, let alone the chance to speak with her. That is the only flaw he saw in their relationship – the secrecy of it all. The inability to hold her hand and kiss her in the open, his inevitable powerlessness if a man were to court her, sure sneaking around brought that adrenaline rush but he would trade it in a second if he could bring her to the Godswood and have them be declared as one in front of the Old Gods.

Damn Theon, damn Theon and his whore! If his friend didn’t spend his days talking about how nothing compares to redheads when it comes to the bedroom and how being kissed by flames makes them so exquisite, maybe Robb would never have started looking as Sansa as anything more than his lovely little sister. Maybe he would never have started trying to impress her with his sword fighting skills or bringing her gifts when he travelled around in the North. Maybe he wouldn’t have a knocked at her door late one night, bringing her delicate silks that he had found in White Harbor and she wouldn’t have averted her gaze, her cheeks blushing irresistibly before kissing him passionately like lovers, not siblings. And then maybe, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her. But he had and it was too late to do anything about it now but to give in to the sins at night and the prayers in the morning.

Time goes by agonizingly slow, father and Maester Luwin forcing him to go through the books with them all day, making sure the revenues and expenses are correctly listed so that the King’s Master of Coin could not find a single fault because Robert would certainly not check them himself. Dinner is eaten in the solar and night has already fallen when Robb is finally set free.

He looks for her through the whole keep, internally cursing when he can’t find her anywhere before a maid reluctantly informs that she’s in the guest wing making sure that everything is perfect to welcome the Royal family the next day.

Robb eventually finds her in one of the largest chambers, fluffing some already voluminous pillows before straightening out the furs. Her delicately brows furrow as the tips of her fingers come across a faint crease on the linens that she tries to straighten out as leans over the bed carefully as not to mess up the other side. Robb can’t help but notice how beautifully ethereal she looks then with her hair slightly mussed up, random strands of long copper curls having escaped from her braid to frame her pale face and rosy cheeks. He wouldn’t have resisted kissing her then if the realization of what she was so focused about didn’t hit him at the same moment.

“These are his chambers, aren’t they?”

Sansa jumps a little at his accusation, not having heard him join her in the first place. “These are to be Prince Joffrey’s chambers during his stay here at Winterfell if that’s what you mean.”

“So Arya was right, you finished the dress with him in mind!” He all but shouts, anger and hurt now taking over.

Expecting her to yell back, Robb is stunned to find her lips curling into a knowing smirk instead as she finishes what she had been doing. “Do you really think I’d wear a bluish silver dress to impress a prince whose favorite colors are gold and red, brother?” She purrs, slowly making her way over to him around the bed, her fingers trailing the wooden bed frame until she stands merely inches away from him. He feels her breath on his skin, the tip of her nose teasing his neck as her fingers leave the bed to travel up his thigh, wrecking his heart rhythm in the process. “If anything, I’ve learnt that I’m most impressive when stark naked.”

His warm hand finds her neck, prying her away from him just enough that he can stare into her blue Tully eyes, finding them lustful, before pulling her in for a passionate kiss. Sansa gasps against his lips, startled by his rough movement for a second before giving in, her hands twisting around the collar of his shirt.

Approaching footsteps interrupt them. “Lady Sansa,” a maid calls out and they halfheartedly pull apart. Less than a second later, the woman walked inside the room, looking around for a moment before setting her eyes on the eldest Stark siblings, oblivious to what has just transpired. “Lady Catelyn wishes to speak with you before retiring for the night.”

That was the curse of their relationship, the secrecy, Robb thinks as he wistfully watches Sansa follow the maid through the corridors. Though, at least now he had the guarantee that she didn’t like the golden prick anymore.

* * *

Robb immediately notices it in the courtyard the next morning as they stand aligned to welcome the King. Sansa is next to him, all bundled up in her white cloak, her hair appearing like bright flames on the light furl. She is quiet, too quiet, not saying a word even mother asks her about Arya’s whereabouts. Tentatively, he lightly brushes his right hand against her left one, seeking whatever physical touch they are allowed to in the open. Robb senses her hesitation in the way she flinches at his touch, not really pulling away but not entwining their fingers. Then the first horses pull up and her cold hand is gone.

He studies her silently – what other option does he have, really – as she puts on her best smile to welcome the Prince, all but batting her lashes at him. Robb barely notices the King’s presence in front of him, his attention captivated by the way her cheeks rosy as Joffrey bows down in front of her before kissing her hand.

The confirmation, though, only arrives at the feast later the same day as he overhears the King and his father talk about the betrothal, and he experiences the same pain as if arrows pierced through his heart. When he looks at her again, Sansa is talking with Joffrey but turns silent as soon as she feels his eyes on him and turns her flawless face in his direction. She smiles a little, the corners of her lips tilting up but they soon fall again when he doesn’t reciprocate. He watches her drop her gaze in response, her bosom swelling in her fitted bodice as she takes a long breath before raising her head again just as quickly, as if there was never even anything there, picking the conversation with the golden prick.

Robb tries to focus on the chatter going on in his side of the table, to listen to Theon as he relates his exploits with Ros and to laugh at the appropriate moments but his heart isn’t in it and soon loses the train of the conversation. Instead, his hand finds itself around the cup in front of him before bringing it to his lips just as a sorry imitation of an idea popps into his head.

* * *

Sansa screeches as she feels some gooey texture hit the side of her face. She wipes away the food from her skin, nose scrunched up in disgust as the rest of table erupts in laughter, even the stupid blond in front of her.

Looking to her right, she notices Arya laugh loudly, two shiny coins in her hand. Next to her, Robb is looking equally drunk and smug, finishing his ale without a care in the world even as mother orders him to escort Arya to her room.

  
"I'm sorry." Sansa mouths to him, the sudden anger at being thrown food at, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. But Robb doesn't see her, he is already gone.

  
Last night she had been incapable of telling him the truth, hoping that he would understand once he learned of it. It was not like she had a choice and even if she had, who would turn down the opportunity of becoming queen one day, especially considering her predicament?

  
Sansa continues making polite conversation even as Joffrey walksher to her room, but her mind is elsewhere. She hoped Robb and her could part on good terms when the time came for her to travel to King's Landing, but that seemed rather unlikely now. Leaving would break her heart either way, but perhaps it would easier if they remained friends - a brother and sister who loved each other the way they should, the way the Old Gods intended them to.

* * *

  
Sansa finds her way to the abandoned tower the following morning, unconscious of having picked it as her destination at all until she starts climbing up the slippery, worn-down steps, parchment and quill in hand. Most men had left hours ago to go hunting with the King but still, the keep remained so loud, she couldn't find a place to write serenely.  
  
Once at the top, she spots Robb sitting on the floor, his back against the stone wall, absentmindedly twirling his sword between his hands.

  
"Robb, what are you doing here?" She breathes out, stopping still.

  
He stands up as soon as he hears her voice, as if a thunderbolt had shot through him. "Sansa," he murmurs like a plea. "I needed to talk to you, away from the others and I knew I'd find you here."

  
She suddenly feels embarrassed, setting down the parchment and quill as discretely as possible but it doesn't escape his attention. "You're writing me a goodbye letter?" He speaks up with a frown but it isn't a question and the bitter chuckle that follows holds no amusement. "I suppose that means you've agreed to the betrothal," he nods quietly then turns away from her and runs his fist against the wall without a warning, groaning before resting his forehead on his hand.

  
Sansa's heart breaks watching him like this. Robb Stark, her older brother, heir to Ned Stark, the best swordsman in the North, the fiercest rider - now breaking down in front of her. She would never love anyone as she loved him and he would forever be her knight in shining armor who had always protected her from made-up monsters in the Wolfswood all through their childhood, but love and marriage were two different things, both powerless when it came to the other.

  
"As soon as father rides South, you'll be the acting lord of Winterfell," Sansa tries explaining even as her voice cracks. "You'll inherit his title and his castle. I don't have any of that, Robb. I need to set up my future, find a husband that will look past the fact that I am no longer pure," she stops to catch her breath, the words hurting even as they escape her throat. "I don't fancy Joffrey but I have no choice."

  
Silence. "You just admitted you don't even like that prick and yet, you're willing to marry him," Robb huffs disdainfully, still not looking at her but straightening himself up.

  
The disapproval in his tone hurts her physically as she unconsciously takes a step back until she collides with stone. "Most people aren't like our parents, they don't get to love their spouse," Sansa says defensively, fighting back the tears. "I will marry Joffrey even if I don't like him and one day, maybe, you will have to marry a girl you don't like either. It's the way life is."

  
Robb suddenly leaves his spot, determination on his face as he closes in the space between them until they're almost touching each other and he grabs her hands in his. "I will be the Lord of Winterfell." Robb states seriously, not letting go of Sansa who stares at him with confusion, not knowing what he is getting at. "If I say my sister will not marry and is to stay by my side in Winterfell, then no one can force you. And if the golden prick isn't pleased, let him whine under his mother's skirts."

  
"That's not how things work," Sansa protests weakly, a fleeting smile on her lips, even as she feels his breath on her skin tearing through her resolve and his familiar, welcoming scent clouding her judgment.

  
“We’ll make things work our way, Sansa, no matter how, I promise,” he whispers, forehead against forehead, as blue eyes stare into their twin pair. “I dare you to tell me you don’t want it too.”

  
Sansa looks down at their entwined fingers between them, a single tear rolling down her cheek. What was the point of always diligently following the rules if she could never be granted the one thing she wanted – her brother?

  
She surprises him with the force of her kiss as he stumbles backwards, her body suddenly twisting around him like the vines that grew on that very same tower. Robb kisses her back just as he regains his balance, one hand cupping her cheek as the other holds her up against him until her back collides with a wall, allowing him the leverage to travel her pale skin with his lips.

  
With fumbling hands, they manage to free themselves of the confinements of their clothes to meet as one. "I could never give up on this," Robb groans as he starts ravishing her and she whimpers unintelligibly against the crook of his neck. "I could never give up on you, Sansa."

  
The sounds of their passion fill the hollow tower, from fabric ruffling against fabric to sloppy, wet kisses under the throes of pleasure, until the climax is impending. "Robb." Sansa gasps in pleasure as her orgasm rolls in waves, the rhythmic clenching of her walls making him succumb to his own bliss, panting her name next to her ear as he messily thrusts up a couple more times.

Sansa slowly begins catching her breath, finally opening her eyes only to find two figures leaning against the stone walls, looking bemused. "Robb!" She screams in pure horror, hastily pushing him away from her to lower her skirts, making a mess of themselves in the process. She tries to hide herself behind her brother as he struggles to fix his clothes in a hurry, cursing under his breath when he realizes they have been caught.

  
"Well, well, well," Jaime Lannister chants teasingly, blowing some air to remove a few strands of golden hair from his eyes. "If these aren't honorable Lord Eddard Stark's oldest children, sister," he comments, winking at Cersei whose face is a mixture of anger and amusement until her lips quirk up into a smirk.

  
"I believe I just witnessed Winter come," she wits, cocking a brow at her brother before turning her attention to the pair of redheads whose expressions leave no doubt about the fact that they'd rather be anywhere but right there. "I think my husband, the King, would be most interested in knowing that Sansa Stark - the girl he intends to betroth his heir to - has been spoiled by her own brother."

  
Panic sets in as Sansa realizes the consequences. Forget about the betrothal to Joffrey, they'll be very lucky if they get to keep their heads and granted exile to Essos! "Please, don't, Cersei. I beg of you-" Sansa implores, the previous intense bliss suddenly gone as tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She takes a step forward, ready to beg for their lives on her knees when Robb catches her with a firm grip on her shoulder and pulls her back to him, protectively wrapping his arm around her narrow frame.

  
"Sansa stop," he whispers into her ear before shifting his attention to the Lannisters. "You are right in what your said, Ser Jaime Lannister. We are honorable Ned Stark's equally honorable heirs.” Robb pauses, his face suddenly almost arrogant. “So who would the King believe if we accused you of the same crime? His loyal friend's children or his wife whom he despises and her brother he wants to get rid of?" Robb raises his brow as if daring them to leave and tell the King.

  
Cersei's face falls at his words and Sansa stares at her brother, thankful for dealing of the situation but still puzzled as when he tilts his head to Jaime Lannister. Sansa follows his gaze until her eyes fall on the blond man's crotch and notices that just like Robb's, his breeches were also unlaced. "Oh." She murmurs softly.

  
"Our silence for your silence, what do you say?" Jaime offers begrudgingly after being ordered so by his sister's cold glare, taking a step forward to offer his hand for Robb to shake.


End file.
